


Artistic Integrity

by Saesama



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Espionage, Gen, Modern Art, Team Bonding, Technology used for art and profit, art nerd, co-workers to bros, non-euclidean spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saesama/pseuds/Saesama
Summary: Symmetra is disappointed to learn that an art exhibit she wished to see is being shut down. Junkrat offers her a way to get a private tour.
Or.
Satya and Jamie bond over art, stairs, and espionage.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forevertableflip](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=forevertableflip).



> http://www.mcescher.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/LW375-MC-Escher-House-of-Stairs-1951.jpg

Satya let out a long, slow sigh of relief. The mission that had put then in Amsterdam had gone over far smoother than anyone expected, smooth enough that they still had days before the transport was due to arrive again. And Tracer, as officer in charge, had declared that there would be no change in schedule, that they were staying to enjoy the city for a few days as a job well done. Winston had offered up only token protests and the small group of agents were already winding out of battle-ready mode before the comm link went dark.

“Well, men,” Lena thrummed, dropping her voice in her best impersonation of Commander Morrison. “You all did a damn good job out there. You're on liberty for the next forty-eight hours. No robbery, no porno films, and no obvious murder.”

“Oh, great,” Junkrat groaned with dramatic dismay. “Take all the fun outta this, why don’t ya?”

“No fun, either,” Lena growled. McCree’s stoic facade cracked into a broad grin and Lena dropped her impersonation with a giggle. “Serious, though, Ratman,” she said, throwing herself across one of the room’s two beds. “No knocking over banks or murdering businessmen or what.”

“Oi, come on,” Junkrat protested. “D’ya know how much tourism business them places got because I flipped ‘em over? People love a good crime story!”

“I looked you two up,” Satya offered, not as carefully as she once would have, “when you joined Overwatch. One of your grenades was selling on Ebay for quite a lot of money.”

“See? I am a gift that keeps on giving.”

“Much like herpes,” McCree muttered, causing Lena to explode with laughter.

Satya allowed herself a small smile. She turned in her chair as Junkrat began to loudly defend himself, examining her visor for any defects. The mission, while short, had been intense, and she was looking forward to a day or two to set it behind her. The hotel room was for Lena and herself, the two men piling in for the duration of the call back to base. Under other circumstances, she would have resented their presence in her space, but she found herself unperturbed. They were noisy, yes, and questionably hygienic, but they had also spent the last thirty six hours saving her life, and she theirs. The camaraderie of a life-or-death situation had yet to fade.

“Hey, Satya?” She looked back. Lena sprawled across the bed with her chin in her hands, her heels kicked up behind her. “Whatcha gonna do with your time off?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Satya smiled again, more broadly this time. “Amsterdam has a very famous art exhibit,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “A collaboration, between a Dutch artist, a Voskaya employee, and a Vishkar Architect. They sought to bring the works of M. C. Escher to life, building a non-euclidean maze.” Lena’s brow furrowed and she mouthed ‘non-euclidean’ to herself. Perhaps she should not gush so strongly about something her companions likely had no interest in. But Lena was still paying attention and she _had_ asked.

“That's the fella that drew the staircases that didn't end, right?” McCree interjected into the pause.

Satya beamed, sitting up even more upright. “He was,” she confirmed, delighted. “One of his most famous works was called ‘House of Stairs’, a room where ‘down’ was subjective. Using Voskaya gravity technology and Vishkar portals, with a number of projected light images, a man named Aldert Mas has built a facility where one can walk in a space that should not exist.”

“Think I'd pass,” Junkrat offered, leaning back dangerously far in the other chair, his hands behind his head. “I've seen what Zarya’s gravity doovalacky can do to a man.”

Satya shook her head, a short, precise movement. “It is the same technology, but not dangerous. It is just enough to allow someone to walk on the ceiling or floors.”

“That sounds wicked,” Lena grinned, fishing her phone from her pocket. “Can I come along? I'd love to see the thing.”

“Might be interested as well,” McCree added, while Lena tapped at her screen. “If you don't mind the company, Miss Vaswani.”

Satya went briefly still. Not only did her enthusiasm not bore them, but they were interested as well? “I. Yes, of course.” Junkrat didn't offer any interest, far more captivated by testing how far back he could tip without falling. Satya was not surprised. “We can make reservations tonight; I am to understand that it is popular, but not usually crowded.”

Lena nodded vigorously but froze midway through the act, her mouth falling open as she stared at her screen. “Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, love, I'm so sorry.” She stretched forward, offering Satya her phone. “The House of Stairs closed down yesterday,” she said regretfully.

Satya’s good mood popped like a bubble before a pin. “It did?” she breathed, ignoring Lena’s phone in favor of donning her visor again. She scrolled past numerous articles on the House, looking for the latest dates. “This makes no sense,” she murmured. She missed the thump as Junkrat landed the chair back on the floor, missed the way all three of them watched her. “It claims the Vishkar Architect withdrew support from the House. Why would she do this? The House was a cultural success, it was a social success, and it should not have required her continued support to remain active.”

“Maybe she had a falling out with the artist?” Lena suggested.

Satya flipped over to Vishkar’s archives, available to her even on her sabbatical. “There is no record of an issue,” she said, aware that her voice had gone cold in her shock. “Only that she will pull active support from the House tomorrow. It makes no sense! The constructs in the House should have been Stabilized, not Supported. They should last for years without her input.”

Abruptly, she was aware of all three of them, staring at her, watching her. “I'm sorry,” she said, standing too fast. “I need a moment.” She stalked across the room and let herself out on the balcony, though not before she could hear Lena’s gentle murmuring behind her.

o o o

Every avenue of thought, every check and inquiry, all led to the same dead end. Teji Kapoor, the Vishkar Architect, was withdrawing her support and nothing could tell her why.

Nothing could tell her why the House had only Supported constructs, either. Supported constructs were not permanent, less of a drain on the Architect at creation but they required upkeep and could be collapsed by the Architect at any time. The House of Stairs was a work of mathematical and artistic achievement; why would she not want it to be permanent?

The door to the balcony clicked open. Satya’s hands tightened on the balcony railing. “I am sorry, Lena,” she said, her voice detached. “I will not be fit company tonight.”

“Sorry, love, ain't got the calves for all that dartin’ around.”

Satya whipped around. Junkrat stood beside the door, a sloppy grin on his face. “Y’think I'd look good in those trousers, though?” he continued, tapping a finger against his chin. “Might stretch ‘em out a bit.”

“What are you doing out here?” Satya blurted, unable to parse any reason why Junkrat would voluntarily seek her out. To say they had differences was an understatement.

Junkrat made a face. “Pft, rude,” he admonished. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to get in on the pizza me an’ Lena were ordering, but now I'm gonna stand here and sulk at you.” True to word, he folded his mismatched arms across his chest and affected an over-exaggerated scowl. It was ridiculous, and Satya felt her shock bleed away.

“I am sorry,” she said, leaning her hip against the railing. “I am liable to be… testy, for the near future.”

“More’n usual, you mean,” Junkrat said, shuffling over to the railing to brace his elbows on it, the long expanse of his back curved like a bow. “Find anything on your magic House?”

“It is not magic,” Satya said immediately. “And no, nothing new. It baffles me, why it was not made a permanent installation, but I will not know unless I contact the Architect herself.”

Junkrat’s face screwed up in thought, and then he let out a sharp giggle, his entire frame shaking with the sound. “Better idea, he said, “let's go ask the _House_ herself.”

Satya eyed the junker warily. “What do you mean?”

Junkrat flipped around to perch precariously on the railing, flinging his hands wide. “We go ask the House,” he repeated. “I can get you in, toot-sweet, and you can find the info you want.”

“You're suggesting we break in,” Satya said flatly. 

“I'm saying we enter without authorization to perform an investigation of Vishkar property,” he countered, his prim tone belied by his wide grin. Satya would have never thought he knew so many words above three syllables. “You get your info, I get to check Amsterdam off the list of cities I've done something fun in. Win-win.”

“This is not a game,” Satya snapped.

“Not to you,” Junkrat replied, his boot hooked around the railing support while he sat back, unbearably smug. 

Satya turned away from his leering grin, her hands in fists. The idea was ludicrous, impossible. Even if she did claim that she was entering on Vishkar business, to ensure that the hard light constructs were properly dismissed, to ensure that there were no attempts at appropriating one of the devices. Yes, there were some at Vishkar who would back her up if she was caught, but she would rather hold onto those favors, not spend them on this frivolous endeavor. An endeavor suggested by a man who actively promoted chaos and anarchy.

“Why would you even offer to help me?” she demanded, turning her head just enough to speak over her shoulder. “What is your true motivation?”

Junkrat shrugged. “Already told ya, it's a win for me.”

“A win you could get on your own,” Satya said, turning around. “Why are you helping _me_?”

Junkrat paused, then folded his arms again, his shoulders hunched up by his ears. He didn't- couldn't- look at her. “I've known you for a minute now,” he said, picking his words with more care than Satya had ever seen him use. “Fought some missions with you, had some fights against you, seen you around. That were the first time I’ve ever seen you happy about something, wanting to do something because you wanted, not because you had to.” He scratched at the red slowly creeping up the column of his neck. “Ain't fair that when you find something you like, it gets taken.”

Satya stared at him, completely unable to form a word of response. Junkrat was not someone she would have called observant, or compassionate, and yet here he was, staring at a spot to the right of her feet with red embarrassment crawling up his face. He had noticed. He had, in some way, cared. He had offered possibly the only solution he could conceive of. A dangerous, illegal solution, but one she could spin to the proper authorities. A possibility.

A long moment passed in silence before Junkrat scowled, hopping off of the railing. “Never mind,” he snipped, stomping past her. “It was a dumb idea anyway. So sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Junkrat.”

Satya hadn't known she was going to speak until she did, her breath a stone in her throat she had to force her words past. He stopped, his hand still outstretched to open the door, his eyes locked forward. “No killing,” she heard herself say. “There will be security, as there is a lot of technology in that building. They are not bounty hunters, or the police. They will seek to detain, not kill.”

Junkrat swallowed. “Can't promise that,” he said slowly. “If some drongo sticks a gun in my face, I'm liable to get twitchy, yeah?”

That was… fair. She could not expect him to not fight if the situation turned deadly. “No killing unless absolutely necessary,” she amended. “And we keep damage to a minimum.”

Junkrat turned back towards her, his manic grin sliding back into place. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he cackled. Satya immediately regretted ever acknowledging him. He rubbed his hands together, metal sliding over flesh. “This is gonna be _great._ Meet me in the lobby, two hours out. I gotta prepare.” He shook with another high laugh and opened the balcony door. “This is one for the history books, love!”

“No high explosives!” Satya called after his retreating back. He flipped his hand over his shoulder in a wave. Satya closed the balcony door and wondered what she was getting herself into.

o o o

Two hours stretched on forever. Lena reappeared at some point, with two goopy-hot slices of pizza wrapped in a napkin, but otherwise she was undisturbed. She spent the time studying every bit of information she could find on the House of Stairs, from its structure, to its layout, to the history of the building. 

Between articles, she wondered at the dissolution of her morals, that she was even considering such an act, let alone participating. She had spent too long out of the Academy, too long among people of questionable character. Their influence on her actions was noticeable.

And yet. Something strange was going on with the House of Stairs. Something unsavory. Either the Architect or the artist had some kind of ulterior motive for closing down such an important piece of interactive art, and her conscience would not be eased until she found out what. She was staring at a puzzle with too many pieces missing to see the full picture.

And she was going to get the remaining pieces from a man who disdained shirts as ‘the most unnecessary rags a bloke could ponce around in.’

Right on time, she walked into the hotel lobby. Her clothing was the darkest she had with her, a practical set she used for missions. Junkrat sprawled on one of the cushy lobby sofas, somehow taking up the entire seat himself. He wore his harness but lacked the rows of smiley-faced grenades, small plastic packets in their place. He looked up as she approached, paused in the act of flipping a detonator switch through his fingers. “All set then?”

“I am ready,” Satya confirmed. She had left her photon projector behind, as the weapon could only be used to kill, and she had every intention of surrendering long before a situation escalated to violence. This was not a mission. This was a lark, an unauthorized jaunt, and she would accept the consequences of her actions. 

“Right then.” Junkrat unfolded from the couch, stashing the detonator in some pocket or another. “Lead the way.”

The House was not too far from where they were staying, easy walking distance. Junkrat strolled along beside her, his shoulders rolled in and his hands in his pockets. They went unmolested, but Satya noticed some people whispering and pointing at Junkrat, noticed him grin at them and waggle his false fingers in a wave. The junker duo had never traveled so far inland when they struck Europe, and the people here had never experienced their particular brand of violence. They probably saw Junkrat as some odd form of celebrity.

The walk was otherwise peaceful, for which Satya was grateful. It gave her time to settle her roiling thoughts into a more useful pattern. Junkrat, for once, was not inclined to chatter, seemingly content with observing the city around them.

The House of Stairs was a new building made to look old, a towering edifice of yellow brick and dark wood. The windows glowed with a cool light and two security guards stood watch on the broad porch. Satya led the way past the House, two, three, four buildings down before she ducked into a narrow alley, Junkrat close behind.

“The best entrance is on the roof,” she said, skirting an ancient dumpster. “An access panel used to bring in the Voskaya equipment.”

“How'd you figure that out?” Junkrat asked, the distinctive _scuff-clack_ of his steps echoing down the narrow space.

“A documentary on the construction of the building,” she said, turning to squeeze through a narrow gap in a short chain link fence. “The panel was visible in the high angle shots.” She glanced back at him through the fence. “You are not the only one who knows how to break into a place.

Junkrat disdained following her through the gap in favor of vaulting the fence one-handed, swinging his legs impossibly high. “You are so telling me that story,” he said, with a startling amount of sincerity.

“If we get through this, I will” she promised.

The back of the House loomed over them, a blank brick face. The fire escape was the obvious choice, but more guards patrolled the base of the building, and there was no way Junkrat could go up the metal stairs quietly. The building beside the House, however, lacked the same security. They skirted the base of it and climbed up the other fire escape, Junkrat clacking as he went but not unduly noisy. 

“Well, we're on a roof,” he pointed out as they stepped over the balustrade. “But it's the wrong one.”

“Have faith,” Satya said, bringing her gauntlet up before her face. “I will make a path.”

The little prism of hard light grew beneath her fingers, stretched long and thin. She added nodes and struts, connecting lines in an interlocking pattern. Harder was growing it to the correct size, carefully spreading her hands to enlarge the structure without tearing it apart. 

Junkrat gave a low whistle as she set down a spindly bridge between the buildings, narrow and without rails but structured to support their weight. “I trust your balance is good,” she said. “You first.”

“Bloody oath,” Junkrat muttered, peering over the building's edge. She wasn't sure why he was concerned; the balcony had been higher off the ground. Then again, he hadn't been walking along the railing.

Setting his jaw, Junkrat stepped out onto the structure. When it didn't give under his weight he grew more confident, crossing the gap with long strides. Satya waited until he was safe on the other building before she darted across herself, glancing down only to ensure none of the guards had looked up.

The only camera faced the roof access door and the top of the fire escape. Satya skirted the edge of its field of view and dropped to a knee beside the panel. “Here,” she said, tracing the edge of the panel with a finger. “It will be sealed, locked or bolted.”

“Leave that t’me,” Junkrat said, unclipping some of the plastic packs from his harness. “Go take care of your bridge.”

“Minimize damage,” Satya warned, making her way back. She didn't want to completely dismiss the bridge, as it was a known way of escape, but if any of the guards should look up, they would sound the alarm. Compromising, she took back control of the prism and moved it to sit on the House roof, just far enough back that it could not be seen from the ground but ready for quick deployment. She stood back a moment, satisfied, and jumped when Junkrat appeared at her elbow.

“All ready,” he giggled, waving a detonator about. “You wanna do the honors?”

“I'm quite all right, thank you,” she said stiffly. Junkrat shrugged and flipped open the detonator cap, and Satya braced herself for an explosion.

It didn't happen. Instead, there was a dull thud, like a fist striking a wall from the other side. The panel jumped in place, offering a brief glimpse of a destroyed locking mechanism on the bottom, and a bit of smoke drifted away in the cool night air. “See?” Junkrat crowed. “I can do subtle.”

“For certain definitions of the word,” Satya said, crossing back to the panel. It was hinged on one side, the other side only slightly warped. It took both of them to lift it and carefully lay it back. A dim room met them.

Junkrat stuck his head down into the hole, looking around. “No guards,” he said. “Lots of machinery.” He stood back up and dusted off his hands. “Welp. Here we go.”

Before Satya could react, Junkrat’s good arm circled her waist, pulling her in close. He twisted down- “Ollie-oop!” -and caught himself with his prosthetic on the edge of the hole. His height meant that his feet dangled about a foot above the floor and he let Satya drop down before he let go.

Satya immediately backed away, bristling. “If you're going to insist on physical contact,” she all but hissed, “at least do me the courtesy of a warning!”

Junkrat held up his hands in a disarming manner. “Alright, I hear ya.” He looked around, stretching up to his full height to crane his neck and look above some of the heavy black boxes that dotted the space. “What's all this then?”

Satya ran her hand over the nearest box, frowning. “Voskaya tech,” she murmured. “And it is still active.”

She bounced in place on her toes. It was a little too difficult, a little too much pull against her heels. “The gravity generators are still running,” she said, taking slow steps to feel the difference. “The shielding must be incredible, as we are not suffering double gravity right now. Some parts of the House are still active.”

Junkrat prodded the floor with his peg leg and scoffed, shaking out his metal knee. “That's bloody weird,” he muttered. “Let's get out of here; I'm doubting any offices are up here.”

“Downstairs, towards the front,” Satya said, heading deeper into the room.

The stairs down passed many fluctuating fields of gravity pulling them to the side. The internals of the maze were immense, far larger than they appeared once inside, to allow for the strange twists of perspective that were the hallmark of the exhibit. A series of doors spaced out the floors on the opposite side; more equipment rooms for the wall-mounted generators. The door at the bottom was able to be opened from their side.

Junkrat pressed his ear to the door for a long moment, his breathing shallow and slow. “If anyone's out there,” he said finally, “they've been waiting a long time. Or they're asleep.”

“We take the chance,” Satya said, firm and decisive. Junkrat shrugged and slowly opened the door.

No one met them in the dim hall. Junkrat pulled something small from his pocket and jammed it into the door’s latch to prevent it from locking them out, and carefully let the door swing shut again. This appeared to be a back hall, multiple doors labeled ‘Staff Only’ in three languages. 

One began to open, preceded by the scent of disinfectant and air freshener.

Satya grabbed Junkrat’s wrist and pulled him to the side, pressing him up against the wall behind the door, her palm over his mouth. He stared down at her, outraged. She glanced back; the door was swinging closed again, the guard oblivious to their presence mere feet away.

Junkrat shook her off and eased up behind the guard, scarily quiet. “Nighty-night, mate,” he whispered, allowing the guard just a second of shock before wrapping around the other man, prosthetic trapping his arms and flesh arm hooked around his throat. The guard made a sharp noise, clawing at Junkrat’s hips, trying to buck back out of his hold. Junkrat had the advantage of height and leverage and the guard’s struggles slowed, stopped.

Junkrat allowed the man to drop back, catching him under the arms. “Get the door,” he grunted, dragging the man back. “This loo is out of service.”

Satya held open the door and as soon as Junkrat lowered the man to the floor, she knelt down to examine him. He was still breathing, raspy but there, and his pulse was steady. He would have a terrible bruise on his neck but he would live.

“Oi,” Junkrat complained from near the sink. “How come I gotta give you warning, but you can drag me around like luggage?”

Satya ignored him, forming shackles for the guard out of light. Wrists and ankles locked together, a muffling band over his mouth, and out of sympathy she placed a mound beneath his shoulders and neck to act as a kind of pillow. He was breathing steadily through his nose and Satya stood, satisfied.

Junkrat swooped down and grabbed the lanyard from around the guard’s neck. It had an ID card attached and he flexed it between his hands. “‘s some kinda tech in here,” he said, looping it through one of his belt loops. “Bet it's a key card.”

“Likely,” Satya agreed. “It will be much easier getting around if we don't have to blow open every lock.”

“You and Lena, ruining all my fun,” Junkrat sighed, shaking his head. “Lead on.”

The other two rooms proved to be a bathroom and a small lounge, both empty. Something in the bathroom recognized that the guard was still in there and a soft ‘Occupied’ light glowed on the door. It would have to be enough to discourage investigation. 

Satya crept down the hall, her skin electrified with nerves. Junkrat slunk behind her, his footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor, still eerily quiet. She glanced back at him and his lips were parted just enough to show a gleam of ivory and gold, his eyes wide and wild and dangerous. She pitied any other guards they came across, and it was only a small comfort that he was on her side. 

She peered around a corner, pulling back at the sight of the main foyer, a broad open space with brilliant lighting. The hall they were in emerged from beneath one of the curved stairwells, tucked into a shadowy niche.

“The main offices are directly across from us,” she whispered, “under the opposite stair. We will have to move quickly.”

Junkrat jerked his chin towards the ceiling. “Ain't this the way to your maze?”

Satya frowned. “Yes, but-” She broke off when Junkrat darted out of cover in the wrong direction, hugging the curve of the staircase until he could hook around the rail and head up. Satya pressed her lips together and followed. “What are you _doing?_ ” she hissed once she caught up. Junkrat was waving his keycard over the grand double doors at the apex of the room, looking for the lock. “We need to get back down stairs!”

“Come off it,” Junkrat replied. “You mean to tell me you came all this way and you don't even want to see it?” Something in the door clicked and he grinned, grabbing the massive handle. 

“Of course I want to see it,” she snapped. “You made it seem like that was obvious. But we are not here to walk the maze; we are here to find out why it's being decommissioned.”

Junkrat paused, looking down at her with furrowed brows. “You know,” he said, “you're allowed to drop the act and be sad that you never got the chance. I ain't one to judge.”

Satya’s mouth clicked shut. To feel cheated, to feel denied something owed, was childish and pointless and would not help her solve this puzzle. But here she was, standing before the prize denied, and she could admit that she very much did want to see what lay beyond those doors.

Junkrat watched her, his hands wrapped around the handle. What was one more act of trespass? Pressing her lips into a thin line, she grabbed the other door handle and tugged.

Junkrat’s grin spilled across his mouth. “Atta girl,” he hummed, leaning his weight into the handle. They tugged the doors open just enough to get through and shut them as much as they could without crushing their fingers. The were in a curved hall, light flowing in from the other end. They shared a look, and walked forward through the arch.

It was the most beautiful place Satya had ever seen.

Like the outside, it was all pale yellow brick and dark wood, etched here and there with tessellations in brilliant blue, highlighted with bushy green plants that spilled over rails and edges. It sprawled up and out, a great hollow cube, the walls lined with staircases and dotted with archways. Everything was straight, clean lines but they intersected in impossible ways, twisting without bending to connect in strange, marvelous angles, a jumble of stairs and perspectives that should have been mad but somehow was not.

Across the space, through a sideways arch, she could see both of them in profile, standing on a wall and staring out.

“Hooley dooley,” Junkrat breathed next to her.

“I agree,” Satya said, equally faint.

They took a few careful steps. The sounds didn't echo too badly, didn't feel too loud. Satya ran her hand over the nearest wall, thoughtful. “It's not all there,” she said. “What we're seeing isn't shaped like that. What we passed is far too large for even this.”

Junkrat poked the opposite wall, leaving a dirty smudge against the brick. “What are you on about?”

“Projections.” Her voice grew confident, all of the strange math of this place settling in her mind. “Much of what we can see from here is projections, of other parts of the maze. They use portals, and gravity generators, to fold the space in on itself, but they can't do all of it in real space. So they have projected images of other parts, making it feel like like we really are standing on the ceiling of another walkway, but if you were to reach, you couldn't always touch the people on the other side.”

“This place makes my head hurt,” Junkrat said. “So, do we just go to the nearest wall and start climbing?”

Satya shook her head, moving to stand at the bottom step of the nearest set of stairs. “We walk the maze. Portals will move us through changes in gravity.”

Junkrat pulled in a slow breath and flung his arm out, a haphazard ‘get on with it’ kind of gesture. Satya took the first step.

When alarms didn't blare and scream, the second step was easier. Then the third, fourth, up to the first landing. Junkrat climbed up behind her, snickering under his breath. “Good thing this place was built with them lacking a foot in mind,” he said.

Satya blanched, horrified at herself. She had given no consideration to the fact that Junkrat was missing most of his leg, that stairs were likely a trial for him. “I am sorry,” she said, and she found that she meant it. “We do not have to do this.”

“Yeah, nah,” Junkrat said, waving his hand. “I looked up your man's drawing, I knew what I was in for.” He walked forward and paused, grinning at her over his shoulder. “Race ya.”

“That's not funny,” Satya said, while Junkrat cackled at his own abyssal wit. 

Up a set of stairs, down another. The stairs themselves were broad and rather shallow, not requiring much effort to climb. The designers likely hadn't wanted to tire out their guests too early. Satya glanced up, measuring the number of stairs in the place. She was in excellent shape, but she suspected her thighs would be agonizing by the time they were done.

They came to their first portal on the fourth landing, though it was hard to tell. Something in the air shimmered at the edge of her vision, and she held up a hand to pause them. Junkrat watched her curiously as she inched forward, slowly waving her hands before her.

Abruptly, the very tip of her finger disappeared.

She pushed further and it reappeared, slightly disconnected, like viewing a rod in a glass of water. If she hadn't been looking, she might never have noticed. “Very clever,” she murmured, pulling her hand back. “It is a projection, set in front of the portal. It shows the destination. We will likely end up somewhere far from this point, but the projections make the trip seem seamless.”

“This place _really_ makes my head hurt.” He prodded the air, freezing when his hand underwent the same disconnect hers had. “We're really in it for the long haul, ain't we?”

“We are.” Satya smiled and stepped through the portal.

o o o

“We're on the ceiling.”

Satya paused and looked back. They hadn't spoken much, still aware of the guards around them. Most of their words had been directions, as they explored the many nooks and crannies and strange turns the House offered. “How can you tell?”

Junkrat stood on a landing, tapping his peg leg. “The fake gravity pulls different on the metal,” he said, waving his false arm for emphasis. “Your glove thingy probably ain't iron enough to feel it.”

“It is not iron at all,” Satya said, considering the floor. “Will you tell me when we swap between ceiling and floor and wall? I am trying to map the real space in my head.”

“Course you are,” Junkrat said. “Nah, yeah, I'll tell ya. Takes me a tick to orient it, but I'll let you know.”

“Thank you.” They continue on in silence, but those two words weigh heavily on Satya’s conscience. “Thank you,” she repeated, so quiet she was unsure if he heard her, unable to force anything louder past her lips, and she couldn't look back to see his reaction. “For, for this idea, and convincing me to do this. I would have regretted never seeing this myself.”

There was a long enough silence that she began to feel uncomfortable, and this was how he must have felt on the balcony. “Touching you,” he said finally, before his good arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her against his side, an odd sort of sideways hug she had never experienced. “You ain't gotta thank me,” he said, his tone light, almost jovial. “I'm enjoying the hell out of this. Got to blow open a door, got to choke someone out, and now I'm running around inside priceless art. Helluva night.”

What was proper protocol for this? She knew a regular hug and this was something like that, and something like supporting an injured person, and quite unlike either. She settled for placing her hand on his back, safely above the drooping line of his dusty shorts. “I still feel as though I owe you,” she insisted, perhaps too used to the currency of favors within Vishkar. 

Junkrat’s grin stretched wide, sly and amused. “You kidding?” he asked. “I got Symmetra herself to commit a crime! That's more than enough thanks.”

Satya’s face went flat and she shoved him away. “Never mind, I take it back. You are the worst.”

Junkrat let himself be shoved, giggling as he staggered away. “No take-backsies,” he sing-songed. “You said something nice about me and I ain't never gonna forget it.”

Satya pinched the bridge of her nose. She had opened herself to banter with _Junkrat_. She would never know peace again. She scowled up at him, but her eye caught movement beyond his shoulder and she went very, very still.

Far above, armed guards were entering the room, upside down to her point of view. Two were pointing up (down?) at them and the rest were filing in, splitting left and right to take both paths.

Junkrat looked up to see what caught her attention, just as one of the pointing guards raised her weapon. “Aw, _fuck.”_

The gun fired, an energy weapon, but it splattered against nothing halfway across the room. A projection, then, the guards in a different physical location than they appeared. The one who hadn’t fired turned on the one who had, shouting something in Dutch, something sarcastic and harsh.

“Dammit,” Junkrat hissed, his eyes darting between the two groups of guards sliding in and out of the various doorways. “There another way out of here?”

Satya shook her head. “The path in and the path out.”

Junkrat bared his teeth in an unsettling grin and drew a cherry-red shell from his pocket. “Gonna make a path, then.”

“No!” Satya’s hand was around his wrist before she thought about it, desperate. “There must be a way without death or destruction,” she said, wracking her mind even as she said the words. They had to get around the guards, but the paths were more or less linear. She would not have enough time to spin out another bridge that could support them through the changing gravity fields. Her own teleporters could not be thrown to another surface and still work, and she was not familiar enough with Teji’s teleporters to be able to reroute one on the fly.

Fly.

“Junkrat,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Can your concussion mines launch two?”

Junkrat squinted down at her and finally pulled his hand free. “With a bit of a twiddle, yeah,” he said, and Satya was relieved to see him slip the shell back into his pocket. “What’cha got in mind?”

She looked up, calculating. “A way to get us around the guards. Come. Tell me when we change direction.” She ran forward, Junkrat on her heels.

“Floor,” Junkrat grunted around a wire in his mouth, after the first portal.

“Ceiling,” after the second, and she had to slow down to keep with him as he fiddled with one of his mines, barely even looking at the stairs as he pried open a panel on the side.

“Floor again.” He sounded winded. Satya didn’t feel much better. The House was taking a toll on them both.

“Wall.” She paused, looked up. The door she wanted was directly below (above?) where they stood. The guards before them were closing in. She was fairly certain that there were no projections between them and their goal, but the projections were very well hidden and she could not give an absolute. “Here,” she said, pointing at the landing they stood on. “Going there.”

Junkrat craned his neck, chewed on his lip, and dropped the mine with a casualness that almost seemed careless. “Right, well. Gonna have to touch you again.”

“I understand.” She twisted her hands together and drew a glittering blue shield around them both. “And this will probably hurt.”

Junkrat backed away a few steps, glancing between the mine and the landing above. “Y’hardly notice the singed bits after the first few,” he said, off-hand except the nervous thread under his voice. He held a detonator in his hand. “Ready?”

Satya drew a breath and stood beside him. “Yes.”

“Liar.” Before she could defend herself, Junkrat’s arm wrapped around her hips to hoist her against him and he was running towards the mine. Satya wound her arms around his neck and tucked her face against his shoulder and prayed that she had mapped the place correctly.

The explosion rattled her to the bone, a lot of noise and a little heat and a deep, driving force that launched them into the air. She curled her prosthetic around the back of his neck to protect him for the landing and she felt him to the same, a strange heartbeat of calm practicality in the center of so much chaos. Then they hit the barrier between gravity fields and gravity wasn’t canceled out, it was doubled and opposing and for one terrible moment it felt like they would be stuck between the two with no true down. But inertia carried them forward and they went from soaring to falling.

Junkrat’s shoulder hit first and he rolled with the impact, across his back and onto Satya before coming to a stop. They lay there for a breathless moment, Junkrat’s prosthetic cradling her head and his nose against her neck and his weight pinning her to the floor and their legs tangled with uncomfortable intimacy. He smelled like burnt cloth.

The heavily accented voice of one of the guards shattered the ringing silence. “Holy _shit.”_

Junkrat giggled, going lax above her before he was up, pulling her up along with him. He looked up at the door, his jaw slack in confusion. “‘s the door out,” he realized slowly. “How'd you know?” Wordlessly, Satya pointed at the wall beside the door. Junkrat’s handprint was still there, dull grey on the pale stone. He stared, then let out a helpless laugh. 

The guards were trying to reorient themselves back towards the endpoint of the path. ”To the roof,” Satya said, hurrying back up the curved hall. “We will escape back the way we came.”

“If there ain't more guards waiting,” Junkrat said, and Satya glimpsed the flash of red between his fingers again.

The massive doors were closed and Junkrat hurriedly waved his stolen keycard around the seam. There was a click and they both threw their weight against one side to force it open. No guards met them and they ran down the stairs, no thought of stealth to quiet their steps. 

“ _Wat is hier in godsnaam aan de hand?”_

Satya skidded to a stop, Junkrat nearly tripping over her as he pulled up short. A man with a lot of moustaches stood near the door under the far stairs, a thunderous frown etched onto his broad face. At first glance, he appeared frail and old, but there was nothing frail in the breadth of his shoulders or his solid stance. He was large and imposing and-

Familiar.

Aldert Mas, the artist behind the House of Stairs, was staring them down.

And Satya did not need to understand Dutch to know a demand for an explanation when she heard one.

o o o

Aldert was a large man not quite past his prime, as well as incredibly angry. He squinted hard at Satya’s arm, his lip curling away from his teeth. “Vishkar, hn?” he sneered, his accent thick and full of scorn. “If you're here to steal Taji’s designs, you have five minutes. They go at midnight.”

Satya blinked out of her shock. “I am not here to steal,” she said, “I am here to find out why the House of Stairs is being shut down.”

Aldert raised a slow, incredulous brow. “And you hoped to find that in the maze?”

Satya flushed miserably. “I… wanted to see it,” she admitted, unable to meet his eyes.

Aldert snorted, like an irritable dog, and his gaze turned to Junkrat. “And you? Are you also looking for answers?”

Junkrat shrugged, his smile wide and a little too sharp. “Just a cat burglar, mate,” he drawled.

“More of a Rat burglar, if I remember the news right,” Aldert retorted. Junkrat looked briefly pleased, though the expression slipped back to manic when the guards began to pour out of the maze. Aldert waved them down and folded his arms to stare down at the two agents. “Vishkar hires mercenaries now? Why should I not call the police?”

“Because I can help keep the House open, if I know why it will be closed.”

The words were a calculated gamble. If Aldert was the one who wished to close the House, they would most likely end up in prison. But he had offered - sarcastically, but still - to let her steal Taji’s designs. Satya took a slow breath.

Aldert went from irritable to thunderous, his heavy brows furrowing over his eyes. “And let you sap me dry like that leech? Nay! I would rather lose the House then let her become a well tapped for Vishkar’s thirst.”

Satya frowned, genuinely puzzled. “A leech? What do you mean?”

Aldert paused, eyed her carefully, exhaled. Something in his expression softened, just the slightest. “Taji’s contract renewed every year, and every year, she demanded more and more of the profits from the House. The last few years, she took _all_ of the profit, leaving me with just enough to keep her running. This year, she wanted even more, and she sent along a list of ‘fixes’, Vishkar tech I could use so I could fire the staff. All with their own contract, of course.”

Satya felt sick. Such greed was more than unseemly; it was against everything Vishkar stood for. She started badly when Junkrat’s hand curled around her elbow and it took her a moment to realize that she was shaking. ”What a fuckin’ mongrel,” she heard him say, almost distantly. “Why not get someone else?”

“Taji’s contract forbid negotiations with any other Vishkar employees.”

“And it’s up at midnight,” Satya murmured. The puzzle pieces were slowly falling into place; she could see the entire picture. “Mr. Mas, does Taji have any hold over the design of the House?”

Aldert gave her an odd look, not as hostile as he was a minute ago. “No, only the portals. Volskaya donated the gravity, but the designs are mine alone.”

“I see.” A clock in the corner of her visor turned over - midnight. “Mr. Mas, I would like to negotiate a new contract with you.”

Aldert was quiet for a long moment. “What are your terms?” he asked finally.

“Stabilized portals,” she said immediately. “Permanently installed, with a design that requires minimal upkeep. My payment will be entry into the House for myself and any companions whenever I wish.”

Aldert stared at her for a long moment. Satya held his gaze. The moment held, spun out into a small eternity, until-

“Come. Let us talk this over.”

o o o

It was nearly three in the morning by the time they made it back to the hotel. She had released the captive guard (and paid him a hefty compensation for his treatment, and Junkrat did not protest _too_ much when she badgered him into helping her pay) and collapsed the bridge. The negotiations had only taken so long because Aldert wanted everything as clear and straightforward as possible, with no room for her to cheat him. Stabilized portals, with only the backdoors in their programming that came inherent to Vishkar technology, in exchange for permanent access to walk the maze whenever she wanted. He never exactly warmed to her (especially after he saw the bruising on his guard’s throat) but his gratitude was real. The House was precious to him, and to be able to continue to share it was a great comfort.

They were in Amsterdam for another two days. She would spend most of that placing the new portals.

Junkrat had mostly behaved himself while the negotiations had taken place. Mostly. She had heard him giggling from down the hall at one point, and she suspected that some of the guards had (hopefully) non-lethal surprises waiting for them. Somehow, he was as fresh as when they had left, while Satya’s thighs felt liable to lock up with every step she took. 

She had just raised her key card to open her hotel door when the other swung open, revealing Lena in her pajamas. Over her shoulder, McCree was visible, sitting in front of the TV where a game of some sort was paused. “There you two are! I was starting to wonder if I’d have to start checking the jails!”

“C’mon, Lena,” McCree called back over his shoulder, “Let ‘em end their date peacefully. We got a match to finish.”

Satya’s cheeks flushed hot. A horrid strangled noise came from behind her, and she turned to see Junkrat equally red, his mouth gaping like a landed fish. “That wasn’t a date!” he nearly shrieked, his voice driven an octave higher in outrage.

McCree leaned back on his elbow to give them both a flat look. “Y’come back at three AM after a night out together, and it ain’t a date?”

“Come off it, Jesse,” Lena sighed. “You’re not winning the bet. Junkers is a _terrible_ liar. If it was a date, he’d be stuttering.”

“You _bet_ on us?!”

“I do _not_ stutter!”

“Yes, you do, and yes, we did.” She gave Satya a lopsided smile. “I’ll be in as soon as I finish wiping the floor with the old man here.”

Satya swallowed her embarrassment. “I understand. I will see you soon.” Lena tipped a short salute and went back to the game, leaving the door cracked for Junkrat to follow. Junkrat wasn’t looking at her, his arms crossed and his face flushed to his hairline. For the first time all night, she noticed that, aside from his hands, he was cleaner than she could remember ever seeing him. “Thank you again,” she said, twisting her hands a little. “We managed to preserve an important thing tonight.”

“And you got your maze,” he added, his eyes darting to her, then away. “Uh. You’re welcome.” He chewed his lip a moment, then glanced back at her, a sly grin tripping over his mouth. “So I get to hear about your past as a ‘daring corporate thief’, yeah?”

She briefly thought of Rio and shoved down the memory with fierce determination. “I did promise,” she said, “though I think my exploits were far more tame than yours. Perhaps on the flight back to Gibraltar.”

“Sounds like a d- like a plan,” he agreed, his voice cracking a little on the last word. “I’ll, I’ll see you then. G’night, Symmetra.”

She gave him a tired smile and retrieved her key card again. “Good night, Junkrat.”

She glanced back as she was shutting her door; Junkrat was watching her, his hands in his pockets and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Satya dropped her eyes, oddly shy, and latched the door.

She decided that before she left in the morning, she was going to convince Lena to use her ill-gotten winnings to get another pizza.

**Author's Note:**

> forevertableflip on Tumblr had the best idea about Symmetra and Junkrat and art exhibits and daring late night espionage and so here you go.
> 
> http://forevertableflip.tumblr.com/post/147603908259/on-todays-episode-of-if-rae-could-write-symmrat


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